


Nobody Ever Knew- The 7th Wheel

by petitminouu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Multi, Self-Esteem Issues, Sick Character, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Lance, Very old, Vomiting (in ch2&3), oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:12:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitminouu/pseuds/petitminouu
Summary: After the dreaded pit stop to help the aliens that were "in need" (s1 ep6), Lance wonders what his actual role is in the team. This leads to extreme situations as Lance slowly tears himself apart. Of course, nobody notices until it's too late- then the team (cough cough Keith) has to save Lance.





	1. The Beginning

Lance quietly sat at the end of the table at dinner, slowly chewing his food. He swallowed down a big lump of goo, slightly choking. He let out a muffled cough, shrinking in his seat. The others were whispering at the other end of the table, glancing at Lance every once in a while, slight guilt written on their face. Finally, Pidge cleared her throat.

"You know, Lance, what you did today was very stupid. They could have gotten away with Blue." Pidge glared at Lance over the top of her glasses.

"As much as I hate to agree with Pidge, she's right," Hunk sighed, refusing to look Lance in his face. Lance's stomach sank. He slowly stood up, taking his plate off the table.

"I'm sorry." Lance muttered, starting to walk away. He could feel the other Paladin's stares on the back of his head, but he didn't care. He just needed to get away. After depositing his plate, Lance headed to the training deck.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Lance chanted to himself. 

 **Yes. You are stupid.** Lance looked around, horrified. "Who said that?!" he yelled to thin air. Then, shaking his head, Lance started up the training. _"Level one. Commencing Gladiator."_ a melodic voice hummed from the ceiling.  _If you want to stay on the team, you need to get better._ Lance cursed himself as he fought gladiator after gladiator, cruising up to level 16.

Lance collapsed to the ground, shaking from exhilaration. Finally, he got to the feet, stumbling to the elevator. As it climbed up to the floor with all of the Paladin's rooms, the voice struck again.  **You're going to have to do much better than that, you worthless idiot.** Lance gritted his teeth, stepping into his room. Lance decided to go to bed early.

The next morning, Lance felt terrible. He had a headache, and his whole body rippled with pain when he sat up.  **Pathetic. Absolutely unwanted by others.** Lance groaned, dragging himself out of bed. As Lance trudged down to breakfast, he thought about what his role was on the team. He realized that he didn't really have a role, he was more just like a 7th wheel. Before Lance walked into the room, he punched himself, hard, in the head. His headache double, but he figured that he deserved it. 

Nobody spoke a word when Lance came into the room. It was almost like Lance wasn't there. At the end of breakfast, Shiro glanced up, and caught sight of Lance. "Oh! Lance, you're late. Be more on time, will you?" Lance started to object that he was there the whole time, but Shiro cut him off. "Don't complain. It's time to start today's training."  **Interesting, they don't bother to check for you.**

Lance slid into the training room, ahead of the others. During the training, Allura shouted at Lance for 'not participating'. However, as the team stumbled on through the levels, they started relying more and more on Lance. They only made it to level 6 when everybody collapsed. Lance did not. "Good work everyone. Training is over for the day." Allura called as the paladins started filing out of the room.

As Lance was walking out, Allura stopped him. "Lance, you didn't do enough work. You will have to train for 35 more minutes before I will let you go." With that, Allura slipped out the room, putting a timed lock on the door. 

 _Just great,_ Lance thought as he worked his way up to level 58.  **You deserved it.** The voice struck Lance as he was leaving. It continued to torture him as he went back to his room.  **Worthless. Annoying. Stupid. Unwanted. You should just stop. End their misery. Stop making all of them struggle.**

Lance didn't respond.

 


	2. Going Downhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It continues to get worse. (Gets worse before better)

It had been going on for weeks. The voice taunting Lance, telling him to give up. it was driving Lance insane, yet he struggled on. A single day felt like an eternity. Every single opportunity, the voice would bombard him with put-downs. 

 **Stupid, worthless, no-good troublemaker, obnoxious. Keith is so much better than you!** The voice spat at him at this moment. Lance rubbed his temples, wishing that the migraine would go away. He'd had it for about a week now, and Lance figured that it would go away when the voice would. Which was never.  Lance dragged himself to the training deck, where he had spent days training to get better. Lance hadn't slept for days, he couldn't, so he usually wound up here.

It was a great use of time. He would fight for hours on end, sometimes missing meals. Nobody seemed to notice, though. This would only drive Lance deeper into his abyss of self-hatred. The voice got nastier as time went on, not to mention the team's snarky comments. They still seemed to be salty over the one day when Blue almost got stolen. Nobody noticed. Lance hid behind his usual smile, and his outgoing, flirty, joking personality. This didn't cause any suspicions. Lance would also wear makeup to hide his sleep-deprived face.

As Lance battled the gladiators from level 31, a sudden wave of nausea hit him.

"End t-training s-sequenc-ce" he managed to choke out before stumbling a few feet towards the door and collapsing. The world spun around him like a hyper merry-go-round, forcing Lance to squeeze his eyes closed. He was able to capture a minute of silence before the voice screeched back, amplified from the migraine.  **How pathetic. Get your lazy butt down to breakfast right now, you ugly bag of crap.**

Lance laid there for a few more moments until the nausea subsided enough for Lance to stand up and walk through the doorway. Then it lashed back, much worse than ever. Lance retched, bolting into the nearby bathroom to empty his stomach. When he had finished, he sat back against the wall, gasping for breath.  **RETARTED LITTLE-!!** The voice screamed in his head. Lance curled into a little ball, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard he tried. Lance covered his face as he finally managed to make his way to his room.  _They will have to make due without me._ Lance thought mournfully to himself as he walked through the hallway.

When he got to his room, he went straight to the bathroom to wash off his face. Oh, how he longed to fit in with them. That would sadly never be the case. As Lance looked up at the mirror, something caught his eye from inside the shower. 

 **Do it, you little wimp** the voice taunted.  **They don't need you anyway.** Lance nodded really fast, too fast, and he brought up another wave of bile onto the floor. That didn't matter. Lance stepped into the shower, snatching up the razor like it was a precious gem. Lance blinked away a tear, then made a quick slash on his forearm. It stang, and blood promptly beaded up at the corners.

Suddenly, Lance went loose. He slashed and stabbed at his arms like a maniac. Blood pooled up on the floor, and Lance realized what he had done. Lance realized he couldn't breath. He choked up, throat closed in a heavy panic attack. He scrambled about, cleaning blood and heavily bandaging his arms. The brunette realized with slight satisfaction that the voice was gone. However, as he looked down at the bloody mess he had created, the nausea came back. Lance threw open the toilet lid, vomiting horribly into the bowl. Light-headed and dizzy, he started to stand up, but collapsed. Lance passed out.

 


	3. You Can't Have a Rainbow Without Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has just gotten from bad to worse. Now it's time to clean things up.

A single night had passed. 

 

The Paladins (minus Lance) sat at the table, supposed to be enjoying breakfast. However, they all sat in a worried silence at what Hunk had just asked moments earlier. 

 

"Umm... Did anyone see Lance? I haven't seen him since yesterday's lunch." Hunk had questioned nervously. This set all the Paladins into an anxious state during breakfast. 

 

Finally, Hunk shoved his untouched plate of food away from him. He stood up, starting to lumber to the doorway.

"I can't take it anymore. I'm checking on Lance."

 

Keith stood up, too.

 

"I'll come with." And that was enough said. The two boys took off, starting to sprint to the dorms.

Soon, they reached Lance's door. 

 

"Lance?" Hunk called. "Lance, ya in there, buddy? Lance?!"

 

Yet there was still no reply. Keith turned to Hunk, his face grim.

 

"I'll pick the lock."

 

"Yes, pick the lock."

 

"I'm on it."

 

The door slid open, revealing an empty bedroom. Hunk and Keith stepped inside, looking around. They were about to leave when they heard a faint sniffling noise from the bathroom. The two whipped back around, running into the bathroom.

 

It was a sorry sight. Bile was streaked across the floor, a reek coming with it, and the ground was littered with bloody bandages. But that wasn't what caught the boy's attention.

In the center of all the mess was a shivering and weeping Lance, who was curled into a tiny ball. Hunk's and Keith's heart both broke.

 

Hunk slowly unfurled Lance, cradling his upper body in his own arms.

 

"There, there." Hunk slowly cooed, stroking Lance's hair. Hunk looked up to Keith, and beckoned him to come over. 

 

Before Keith could react, Hunk had switched positioned. Now Lance's limp, shaking body was nestled into Keith's lap.

 

"I'm going to get the others. Stay here with Lance." With that, Hunk was gone.

 

 _Oh, great. I'm stuck with a helpless brat._ And Lance knew. He could feel the way that Keith tensed up, like he didn't want Lance to be there. Lance flinched away, backing himself into a corner. The sobs increased, racking through Lance's small, skinny body. Keith looked startled.

 

"What is it, Lance?" Keith was even more taken aback when the brunette's shaking finger pointed at him. "Me?! I'M the problem?!" Keith roared.

 

Lance's body froze. Suddenly, he lurched to the toilet, starting to gag, but nothing came up. Keith was instantly at his side, awkwardly rubbing Lance's back as he continued to dry heave. When Lance had finished, he sunk against Keith. At that moment, Keith noticed the blood. And the razor. And it hit him like a truck. Lance had tried to suicide.

 

"Lance, why have you done this to yourself?" Keith finally asked gently.

 

As if it was like a flicked switch, Lance told Keith everything. About his self-conscious, the voice, everything. Keith only looked on with a stunned expression lining his face.

 

Eventually, Keith carefully wrapped Lance into his arms. A tear rolled down Keith's cheek. All this time, and nobody noticed how Lance was doing. And now look at where Lance was. He was bawling into Keith's chest, his skinny body jerking wildly due to the crying.

 

Keith realized that Lance was burning hot, yet he was trembling with cold. Keith guessed that Lance had a high fever. Lance needed to get some rest.

 

He tenderly scooped the brunette into his arms, carrying him to his bed. Keith bundled Lance into the blankets, before starting to walk away. He was stopped by a hand pulling on the back of his shirt.

 

"Y-you aren't.... leaving, are you?" Lance panted. Keith turned back to the sick boy, placing a finger on his  fiery cheek.

 

"No. But we need to clean you up." It was right then that Keith really noticed how bad a shape Lance was in, yet Lance was still beautiful. His blue eyes glistened, yet his cheeks burned pink with fever. Keith removed Lance from the bed, and he saw the blood and vomit stained shirt. Yes, Lance really needed to get clean.

 

Since Lance's bathroom wasn't an option, Keith decided to take Lance to this own. Keith gently picked up Lance, tenderly carrying him to his own bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Later, a fresh Lance was settled back into his bed. Keith sad at the foot of the bed, lightly singing a lullaby to a very sleepy Lance. Lance started to drift off, Keith's song going with him.

 

Keith lightly kissed Lance's forehead.

 

"I think I love you, Lance." Keith murmured, gazing intently at Lance's calm face.

 

As Keith quietly left, Lance smiled.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! End of my first fic ever. Tell me what you thought of it- and if you have any ideas. Bye!
> 
> (UPDATE- wow this is kinda cringe XD lol check out my tumbler- Petitminouu)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my very first work, I hope you enjoyed it! Tell me what you think about it. And sorry that the chapters are short, I just can't write long ones.


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